


Everyone has a Color

by cascountsdeansfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Sam Winchester Knows, Tags Are Hard, i don’t know how to tag, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cascountsdeansfreckles/pseuds/cascountsdeansfreckles
Summary: “No, seriously! Everyone has their color, the color that they look the best in.” Sam nods at Cas seriously, gesturing to his shirt. “Mine, obviously, is red.” Cas shakes his head in amusement, stretching out in the chair happily.“I don’t have a color.” Cas tells him casually, glancing at Dean and wondering idly what his favorite color on Dean is. Something in the back of his mind suggests navy, but he suspects that the only reason that popped into his mind is because that’s what he is wearing right now. And damn, he looks good. Sam follows his gaze and finds Dean, his brother is scrolling through something on his phone, completely ignoring them. He smirks at Cas for a moment before tearing a piece of paper out of his notebook and crumpling it up, he ignores Castiel’s objection and tosses the paper, nailing Dean in the side of the head.“Yo--what gives?” Dean snaps, glaring at Sam, who looks unconcerned with his annoyance.“What’s his color?” Sam asks quickly, jabbing his thumb in Castiel’s direction.or the one where dean admits cas looks damn good in white, cas experiences that Overwhelming Love everyone gets when they look at dean, and some other stuff :)





	Everyone has a Color

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about the spacing. the tabs stop after a few paragraphs because i changed my computer to my phone. anyways this chapter is just !! fluff !! with a little kissing at the end sorry ‘bout it.

“No, seriously! Everyone has their color, the color that they look the best in.” Sam nods at Cas seriously, gesturing to his shirt. “Mine, obviously, is red.” Cas shakes his head in amusement, stretching out in the chair happily.  
“I don’t have a color.” Cas tells him casually, glancing at Dean and wondering idly what his favorite color on Dean is. Something in the back of his mind suggests navy, but he suspects that the only reason that popped into his mind is because that’s what he is wearing right now. And damn, he looks good. Sam follows his gaze and finds Dean, his brother is scrolling through something on his phone, completely ignoring them. He smirks at Cas for a moment before tearing a piece of paper out of his notebook and crumpling it up, he ignores Castiel’s objection and tosses the paper, nailing Dean in the side of the head.  
“Yo--what gives?” Dean snaps, glaring at Sam, who looks unconcerned with his annoyance.  
“What’s his color?” Sam asks quickly, jabbing his thumb in Castiel’s direction. Dean looks at Cas for a moment before giving a breathy laugh and shaking his head adamantly.  
“Hell no, I am not answering that. I like my Deancave but I don’t wanna be sleeping in there for the next week.” Sam turns a laugh into a cough at the memory of the last time Dean was kicked out of their room. Dean had suggested that Castiel was cheating on him when the angel had disappeared for a few days without word, Cas had not been impressed. Dean shoots him a look and goes to pick his phone back up from where he tossed it onto the table, but Cas’ curiosity has been peaked now.  
“There is an answer, then?” Cas prompts, watching Dean’s reaction closely. His eyes remain on his phone for a few seconds, but they are clearly unseeing. “Dean, come on, I won’t get upset with the answer. I’m not dramatic.” Dean scoffs at that, raising his eyebrows and finally meeting his eyes. Cas shifts in his seat and corrects himself, “I am not that dramatic.”  
Dean is still hesitant to answer, his eyes shifting between Sam, who looks bored with this little dance already, and Cas, who crosses his arms. Finally, he sighs, setting his phone back on the table. “White. Your color is white.” Cas looks down at the shirt under his trench coat with a small smile, and back up at his boyfriend. Sam glances at his shirt too and rolls his eyes at Dean, mouthing something that looks like ‘coward.’ Dean shrugs at him, but the light blush on his cheeks gives away his sincerity.  
The next morning, Cas untangles himself from Dean as gently as possible and pulls open the closet door. He stops it at three-fourths of the way open, knowing that it will object with a loud creak if he tries to push it open any farther. Suddenly, he is struck by the knowledge he has collected about their small room; he leaves the door open and looks around him, a warm feeling filling his gut. He knows which floor boards are loose, which drawers stick because they are old and which ones stick because only Dean is allowed to see what’s in them, he catalogs every single observation in his mind as his eyes sweep the room. Eventually, they fall upon the man snoring softly on the bed, he has spread himself out since Cas woke up and is cuddling a pillow to his chest in his absence. Ever the hunter, Dean seems to sense that he is being watched and he opens one eye suspiciously. When he finds that it’s just Castiel, he smiles absentmindedly and lets his eye fall shut again. It’s then that Cas thinks his vessel may be experiencing some kind of cardiac arrest. After a moment of panic, he recognizes the feeling. He knows it from Jimmy's memories, especially of Claire, but he also has fleeting moments when Dean has dropped a wink at him or pressed a kissed to the side of his head on a lazy morning when he experienced this same thing.  
Angels aren’t supposed to experience it, that’s why it comes as such a shock to him when it fills up his chest instead of snapping away into nothingness again. It’s love. It’s love that hits him so hard because he can read Dean like an enochian novel; he knows the things that make him smile, or cry, or ball his fists angrily. It shouldn’t be a surprise, when he saved him from Hell he had rebuilt him with gentle hands and that doesn’t come without the price of some intimacy, but it makes Castiel, a being who doesn’t need to breathe, gasp for air. He has watched this man come together, has patched his soul together from broken shards, and he has taken him apart—with much more pleasant methods.  
This thought seems to catch in his mind, and other places, (hey, he’s only human- nevermind) so he stops his staring for long enough to turn back to the closet and grab a white dress shirt. He pulls it on and buttons it with reckless abandon before crossing the room in a few short strides and climbing back on the bed. He swings his legs over Dean so he’s sitting lightly on the small of his back and drops his head down to talk to him.  
“I know you’re awake.” He mutters, letting the words fall from his tongue and watching them ruffle the hair that outlines his forehead. Something flickers behind Dean’s eyelids and his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t move. “Hm, fine.” Cas is less than an inch above his face now, watching him closely. “I guess I’ll just go see what Sam is up to, and I’ll let you sleep.” He makes to push himself up but he doesn’t get another centimeter away before Dean is turning his head and catching his lips in a kiss.  
Cas sighs into the kiss happily, the feeling in his chest finally finding an outlet, a form of expression when words fail him. He has a feeling that this is going to be a good day.


End file.
